


Virus Of The Heart

by believersneverdie



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Band Fic, Bandom - Freeform, M/M, Male Slash, Pete and Patrick (Fall Out Boy), Peterick, fall out boy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/believersneverdie/pseuds/believersneverdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peterick Oneshot in which Pete is a childish and stroppy member of staff working in a local high school, one morning however his computer breaks and he meets face to face with one Patrick, labelled as 'The Hot IT Technician'.<br/>Obviously Patrick thinks that his job is more than over after Pete's computer is fixed, however in Pete's mind his job has only just begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Virus Of The Heart

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this when I was extremely bored one afternoon, this is actually my frist attempt at writting a fanfic on this site, and I would appreciate all the feedback or comment and reviews that any of you lovely people leave.  
> I hope you enjoy!

Pete sighed and kicked his heels against the legs of his desk chair, spinning idly in two neat circles before stopping to rest. It was the middle of the school day, during the middle of the summer season, where the teenagers went wild and began to give fewer shits about their work. It was all about the Holidays in a few weeks’ time. It was nearing summer and Pete had never felt so bored, he wishes he would have been kicking back on tour strumming the hell out of his bass along with a band, but no, he was stuck with this job in high school, full of mouthy teenagers.  
However he did have one source of amusement within this hell hole, the IT Guy. The school seemed overly obsessive over the values of punctuality; though apparently giving the Key Stage Four members of staff halfway decent computers is less of a priority. 

The IT guy – Patrick, Pete found out his name early on by the virtue of being his usual, obnoxiously chatty self – had first shown up due to a small virus corrupting all of Pete’s files. When it came to music, Pete was an absolute genius, bass riffs and lyrics pouring out of his veins like it were in placement of his blood. Yet stick him in front of a working computer – yet alone a broken one – and he wouldn’t know where to begin. Patrick however, was his geeky version of a saviour; a very awkward, geeky saviour. With a great ass, might Pete add. The task didn’t take that long at all, much to Pete’s dismay, however it didn’t stop him from bombarding the poor sod with question after question about his personal life. He couldn’t help it; he just had to find out more about this enigma of a man.  
All viruses clean and gone, and thankfully all Pete’s files restored; Patrick took his cue to leave, shuffling rather professionally albeit slightly red cheeked, through the slim door leading into Pete’s tiny office; Pete merely sending him a coy wink in return. “Later ‘Patty Cakes’,”  
He chuckled as he thought he heard a small muttering of ‘Fuck off, don’t call me that,’ from the other side.  
* * *  
It wasn’t until a week later that an IT technician had to be summoned up to Pete’s chambers again, this time because his computer wouldn’t turn on. Pete, who was yet again sat within his swirly chair, was drumming his fingers impatiently against his knees. He wasn’t really expecting to see Patrick again, yet when the door opened with a small, audible click, he sent his blessings to whatever deity urged the little guy to be beckoned over from his little cave down on the ground floor. Instantly shooting upright out of his desk chair, Pete moved collectedly, over towards the younger male, an alarming contrast against his inner self that just wanted to be as intimate with Patrick as possible. “Patty! What a pleasant surprise to see you again!” He trilled merrily, eyeing the ever-growing blush crawling across the base of his peer’s neck.  
Patrick cast his glance downwards, shifting his fedora hat to accommodate his liking of the rim shielding his eyes, as if trying to avoid eye contact completely; this caused Pete to smirk all the more. “I thought I made it clear, no cheesy nicknames.”  
Pete shrugged, his lip curling upwards in the slightest feign of amusement, the way his eyes gleamed gave the impression he was thoroughly enjoying this little ‘game’. “Oh but where’s the fun in that huh? Every hero needs a nickname, I mean, you are my little technology saviour after all.”  
At this Patrick all but scurried towards the computer tower, his uneasiness evident in the slight shake within his usually calm voice, “What, um. What seems to be the conundrum?”  
Pete internally groaned, this man and his vocabulary was fucking ecstasy. He really needed to curb his thoughts, glancing across towards a calendar pinned against his wall, reminding him he still had three weeks to go; that was enough to put a downer on any mood. “Fuckin’ thing won’t turn on,” he half grumbled.  
By this point Patrick had taken to shoving the desk chair aside, and was kneeling beside the desk, which the computer tower was conveniently positioned under. Again, Pete had to praise any deity that allowed him, of all people, to have the only computer within the department that had the tower under the desk, instead of having it placed beside the monitor on the desktop. Pete imagined himself in the place of the computer, being the one to place that oh so tantalising look of perplexity upon Patrick’s endearing, rather pale face. Having the younger man on his knees before him, taking to the Omega position while Pete was the almighty Alpha, doing what he pleased to what he believed was his property.

“Oi, Asshat,” there was a harsh sound of clicking fingers before Pete was brought back to reality, Patrick staring him down with a look that could only be described as ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me’.  
“What?”  
Patrick rolled his eyes, inclining his head down towards the tower for emphasis, and Pete wondered just how in the name of hell that stupid, cute little fedora managed to stick to his head. “The power cable wasn’t plugged in.”  
Pete blinked, pushing down his own urge to blush with embarrassment, and Pete Wentz did not do awkward embarrassment. “Say what?”  
Patrick’s tone was now deadpan, as he began to yet again half shuffle; half flounder his way out the door, seeing as in his eyes his job was now done. In Pete’s eyes however his job hadn’t even fucking started. “You didn’t have the power cable plugged in,” he repeated, his head now being the only thing visible beside the edge of the office door. “Check thoroughly next time, save me a job.” And with that he disappeared, the door closing with the same, graceful tone as when it was opened all those 10 minutes ago.  
As Pete slumped back into his chair, screwing up a piece of paper before childishly hurling it into the bin on the opposite side of the dingy room, all he could smell was Patrick. All he could think about was Patrick.  
He wasn’t here for long enough, Pete quickly concluded. This IT guy was far too hot and adorable to pass up, so Pete was going to play with him for a little longer. Show the little guy a real technical job. He had to continuously keep the man here for much longer.  
And he had just the right mind-set about how he was going to do it.

The next day, Pete went straight to work, dragging his wretched computer tower from underneath his desk and disconnecting all the cables from one another. With both monitor and the tower separate, Pete sat back at a loss, not really knowing what to do now. There were two options.  
He could either deal with the monitor first by throwing it out of a window or something, and then just resort to beating the tower with a baseball bat. But then would the window fall wreck it too much?  
With Patrick, it would be a risk worth taking. Or there was the more reasonable option he could take…  
Decided, Pete sighed and slyly made his way down onto the bottom floor of the school, down towards the Technology department en route to steal Ray’s tool kit.  
* * *  
Tinkering done, Pete resumed his rightful place back upon his desk chair and drummed his fingers against his mahogany desk top. He had spent most of the morning tampering with the system, taking off the back of the monitor with a screwdriver and reconnecting all the different coloured cables into different sockets of the motherboard. Satisfied with the small piece of heinous mischief he’d caused, he simply screwed the back panel back on as it was and placed it back in its rightful position.  
Next step, calling IT support. “Uh, hullo?” Pete quizzed down the receiver, after he collectedly picked up the desk phone and dialled IT’s short, easily memorised number.  
“Another issue Pete?” Brooke’s feminine voiced drawled in reply, irritating enough to make Pete grimace, it wasn’t Patrick at all. The manner in which she’d directed the question at him however caused him to roll his eyes. “Yeah as a matter of fact, I think something’s wrong along the motherboard circuit,”  
He thought he heard her sigh and mutter something incoherent under hear breath, before stating curtly. “We’ll send someone up,” Pete must admit, the hell he must cause within the ranks of the Technicians was amusing, all this just for one guy? Damn Patrick better feel special once he caught on. If he caught on.  
He swore he heard her state to someone off into the distance ‘We’ll just send Lunchbox,’ before she hung up again.

Patrick opened the door around five and a half minutes later, not like Pete was counting or anything, his fedora still placed neatly upon his nest of fluffy blonde hair, the smallest trace of old sideburns slightly visible. Pete however was nowhere to be seen, the only indication that he was previously present, being a small post-it stuck to the broken monitor. ‘Fix me please, I’m ill :[ ‘  
Patrick blinked at the message, feeling something slightly off with the whole situation. Where was Pete? He was always here with a small smirk and some witty comment to greet him with, and Patrick always had the feeling that Pete would always ogle at his ass, whenever he was on his hands and knees fixing Pete’s mess, which always left him more than a little flushed. Just thinking about it caused his cheeks to turn a darker shade of red than normal, so he simply coughed to release some of his awkward tension, whispering a small ‘Holy smokes’ underneath his breath as he knelt down and got to work.  
Little did Patrick know Pete was actually in the storeroom cupboard tucked somewhere near the door, ironically looking up some – what he would like to describe as unmentionable and corny- upon the internet on his iPhone. He had something rather ‘amusing’ planned for Patrick, all in due time.  
* * *  
Patrick didn’t know how long he’d spent working on this stupid tower, but whatever had been done to it, it was fucked up pretty badly, yet it was still fixable for Patrick; almost anything was. It must have been easily over an hour, he thought, as he felt the cooling sensation of sweat trickling down his forehead, due to how humid and close the atmosphere in this tiny office was. However what he didn’t bargain for was the feeling of Pete abruptly standing beside him, watching him – his ass- rather closely. He hadn’t even heard the door open, Pete was never this quiet; this instantly caused him to flush with both apprehension and anxiety all over again.  
“God ‘Trick are you sitting on the F5 key? Because your ass is refreshing,” Pete half groaned, leaning nonchalantly against the door.  
Patrick could have keeled over and fainted in that moment there, but his profession and dignity steered him away from that course of action, instead his pale skin turned beetroot red as he began stumbling around to stand upwards, some things scattering onto the floor from the desk. “W-What? P-Pete what are you-?”  
A small squeak emitted from Patrick’s throat as he was cut off, Pete’s arms snaking around his waist and pulling him closer to his own, broad and muscular chest. “Is your name Google? Because you’re everything I’m searching for,” Pete smirked, inwardly relishing in the way Patrick awkwardly flailed within his arms, metaphorically turning into mush.  
“Pete… I don’t know what you’re doing but I- Er. I need to finish working on- computer.” He struggled, trying to look away from Pete’s lustful gaze.  
Pete whined, something warm bubbling in the brim of his stomach in reaction to how cute albeit awkward Patrick was acting. “Awh common’ Lunchbox, lighten up and let me work my magic. Besides, let’s just face it.” With that he leant closer, his searing breath fanning against Patrick’s already warm face, causing his lashes to flutter lightly against his plush, baby cheeks. “You feel it too… and you make my software turn into hardware.” Patrick could practically hear the flirtatious purr within Pete’s tone.  
At this Patrick’s eyes widened, everything stopped and nothing else existed, apart from those two, in that moment, holding each other close so that only measly, thin fabric was the only barrier stopping their bare skin from connecting. His breathing was more laboured by the minute, his head beginning to spin; no way was this happening to him, no way would someone like Pete be doing this to him.  
Oh god.  
Something within him snapped, he was a metaphorical furnace by now with a fire kindling and raging within his stomach, witnessing feelings he’d never experienced before. He depicted it like being a small dragon that couldn’t be tamed thrashing around purgatory longing for a taste, something new and rare that it wanted on its tongue, but couldn’t quite get, the only thing it would only ever be tame for, just that little bit out of reach.  
No, this couldn’t happen, he wouldn’t. And with that, he wrenched free of Pete’s grasp with a strangled whine and rushed straight out of the door, without so much as a backwards glance; trying to ignore his inner dragon raging at how incompetent he was being, along with the cries of Pete from the other side of the door, beckoning for him to come back.  
He didn’t come back.  
He went.  
* * *  
It had been approximately four days since that little fiasco, and Pete had never regretted anything as much in his entire, fairly short life. He hadn’t dared call IT again, or Patrick for that matter, broken computer or not. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed, this had to be one of the biggest fuck ups he’d ever made, and that was something pretty hard to accomplish with Pete. Why couldn’t he have confronted Patrick regarding his feelings about him like an ordinary gentleman, or decide to just secretly fantasise over him at a safe distance like most of these high school girls did. Now he’d scared Patrick away and had blown all his chances, his one sole interest within this building snuffed out due to his own stupidity.  
Yet a small voice within the darkest corners of his mind – and Patrick sanity, but he considered that to be near enough the same thing – echoed words that persuaded him that maybe, just maybe he hadn’t scared Patrick away at all. The way he acted, and looked, during that intimate moment was surely a lot more than someone running away due to how uncomfortable they felt.  
Yes, maybe Patrick felt cornered and uncomfortable, yet not because he didn’t have feelings, but because he was too afraid of showing he reflected them back…  
Smiling, Pete leant back in his chair and fiddled around on his computer, he would just wait and give Patrick time. Time was all he needed, and Pete could deal with waiting.  
* * *  
Day five, Pete was sick and tired of waiting. He missed Patrick immensely, he needed to see his adorning face again, hear his smooth, honey tone of voice and just bathe in the warm glow that seemed to radiate from him wherever he went, and Pete yearned for that feeling more than plants craved the sun’s rays.  
Plus, his computer had decided to overheat during this summer heat wave that swept across the city, and he really needed assistance.  
He felt his heart quicken a few paces as his callous fingers curled around the phone again, pressing it firmly against his ear. “Brooke? Yeah, it’s me Pete, my computer overheated.” He exhaled, looking down at his feet.  
“God, I was wondering whether the computer had finally blew up and killed you Petey, you’ve been awfully quiet recently,” Emerged Brookes teasing voice; he could almost hear her smirk. Pete just rolled his eyes and pretended he didn’t hear that stamen, his tone taking to a more hardy nature. “Lovely weather isn’t it? Just bloody help me already.”  
“On our way,” She hung up.

While that certain someone made their way upstairs towards his small office, Pete ran chapter and verse within his mind about all the different ways that he could or should use to apologise to Patrick, anything he could conjure up, whether it be with poetic song lyrics, or just formal – not so amazing but still good for someone like Pete- words. Just when he’d decided on what to use, the door opened and he instantly jumped out of his seat, palms sweating nervously and his heart hammering around within his chest tenfold, mimicking the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.  
The bird smacked against the caging that was his ribs, the wings falling still and slipping into a limp coma, spiralling gracefully downwards into the depths of his stomach, until it practically smacked against the ground beside his feet, bones exposed.  
His someone hadn’t made it.  
Swallowing a lump in his throat, he looked the new guy over. “Uh, where’s Patrick?”  
The new guy blinked slightly in confusion, obviously mulling the name over within his brain until Pete practically saw that light bulb spark off within his blue eyes – that clearly didn’t sparkle as much as Patrick’s did-. “Oh! I’m not too sure, hasn’t been in for five days, I haven’t heard what’s up with him though,”  
Oh god he’s gone, Pete thought, he’s fled because of me, what I did to him. He tried to mask his disappointment and crumbling inner physique with a toothy smile, yet it didn’t meet his eyes. “Oh I see, I wonder how he is…” Looking the man over again he subconsciously found himself beginning to make a checklist of things that was wrong with him, compared to how perfect Patrick was:  
His eyes were the wrong shade of blue, they didn’t look like the ocean within the morning sun, nor did they sparkle in any way.  
His skin wasn’t pale or chubby enough. Patrick’s skin was as flawless and as white as snow, smooth to touch and Pete would be damned by the amount of times he’d had to resist the urge to squeeze Patrick’s cheeks due to how welcoming they looked. He had a baby face.  
He was too tall, Patrick was short for a guy, but he was the right kind of short; standing around the height of 5’4, which compared to Pete’s height of 5’7, was perfect for him. As he could easily tuck Patrick’s fluffy nest of blonde hair atop his head underneath his chin while he cradled him to his chest, relishing how protective he could be over the younger man, and longing for the feeling of that hair tickling his neck.  
The hair was too long, borderline girly, Patrick’s was short and fluffy, ideal for a bird wanting to nest somewhere warm, Pete knew that if he woke up the next day to find out he had small talons and wings, he’d be flying straight to Patrick to claim his head as a nest; he was sure he could burrow his way underneath his hat.  
He also didn’t smell that appealing either; rather shabby with the essence of cheap soap, whereas Patrick always arrived smelling of beautiful aromas, the popular favourite of Pete’s being the fresh smell of lemongrass and Water Lilly, whether that be within his body wash or shampoo, Pete didn’t know (though he hoped someday he’d find out) but either way it smelt damn good. The astounding difference between the two almost made his toes curl.  
“So uh, what was the issue again with your computer?” The man spoke again, snapping Pete out of his mental checklist – like state. Pete blinked twice and nodded towards his monitor, “Damn things overheated due to this heat wave, should be a simple job for someone like you,” he passed comment monotonously, moving towards the door and swinging it open. “Don’t mind me, just need to get some air, feel free to do the same if you get too hot in here, reminds me that I need to complain about my air con.” Leaving the door wide open, not even bothering to ask the guy for his name – it would be a waste of space considering he wasn’t even interested, he wasn’t Patrick- Pete made his swift exit and took the stairs two at a time. Exiting through the side door near the stairs and heading straight towards the small field near the edge of the playground. Once he was there, of course he wouldn’t admit this to anyone, you could faintly hear the anguished roars of rage reverberate off of his tongue, a small silhouette of a man caving in on himself and crying for most of the afternoon for what he believed he’d lost.  
* * *

Pete dreaded turning up for work the next morning, he’d almost contemplated not coming in, but that wouldn’t do much good, nor would it bring Patrick back either. However he wasn’t in the mood to put up with all the whining girls and cocky boys thinking they were the shit, when clearly they weren’t, he wouldn’t and couldn’t even be bothered to answer back with his usual sarcasm.  
He noticed the same, boring routine seemed to occur when Pete stepped into his small office at 8am, he saw no sense of excitement anymore. He’d chased his poor Patty away due to his own selfishness when it came to the feelings he’d felt for him. “This is bullshit.” He dully noted, scribbling random doodles on scrap pieces of paper with his biro pen, each of them (no matter how good they were) screwed aggressively up into a little ball of hate and tossed towards the trash can, most of them missing completely and monotonously smacking against the white walls.  
It was around 12pm when he finally gave up drawing, the most recent one – paper number 36 if Pete recalled correctly- he spent the most time on, but it made him too upset as he stared at the image of Patrick and himself, it made him feel weak, pathetic and childish.  
That slammed against the wall the hardest, bouncing back off that far it ended up near enough beside the door.  
By then Pete swore that if he saw anything else that even remotely reminded himself about Patrick, he would lose it, and hell be damned if he did. Fanning his hand beside his face he tried to calm the waves of sweat that trickled across his forehead, standing up out of his swirly chair and opening the door to head out for some fresh air.  
Said plans halted however when he laid eyes upon a pair of Year 10 boys making out against the lockers, passion rolling off them in waves; showing they clearly didn’t care about any hate that could be given towards them. It almost made Pete feel proud, what with Gay rights improving and all, and that it encouraged even youngsters to become more daring with love. However noted it almost made him proud. Almost.  
Pete didn’t end up heading outside for some fresh air after all. However his computer was signed up automatically for a bungee jumping experience out of the first story window in his office. Bungee cord not included however.  
* * *  
2pm. Around 2 hours after his tantrum, and he was still computerless as he slumped himself up against his desk, chin in his palms, feeling completely done with the world at the moment. However that feeling turned into complete elation, just with the simple chime of a certain voice.  
“Computer delivery for Mr Wentz?” An almost timid voiced trilled.  
Pete whipped his head around so fast he thought he might have caught whiplash, his chocolate brown eyes widening as they feasted upon that familiar ocean blue. “Patrick?!” He choked.  
He thought he saw Patrick blush lightly, his nose turning pink, as he looked down at his feet bashfully. “Uh yeah… Hi again, Pete look I-“ He was cut short as he was enveloped tightly against Pete’s broad chest, said peers arms constricting around his waist in a vice like grip, that spread both numbness to his hips and below and also a warm, fluttering feeling within his stomach that he’d missed for so long.  
“I never thought I was gonna’ see you again ‘Trick,” Pete all but sobbed, Patrick could tell his voice was thick. “I thought I scared you off…”  
Patrick could have broken right there at how feeble Pete both looked and sounded, this wasn’t him at all, pulling away he tilted Pete’s chin up with one slender finger of his, forcing the older man to meet his gaze. “Hey! Enough of that stupid talk okay? I’m here, and I wanted to apologise for the way I acted, I didn’t run away because I didn’t like it… I- Uh. I ran away because it was strange, feeling something so lustful towards you in return. I just got scared…”When he reached the end of his explanation his voice had softened to almost a whisper.  
Pete’s eyes widened at this, resembling a small child at Christmas, as the sparkle within his eyes returned. “So I was right!” He began coyly. “I kneeeeewwww you felt something back, I kneeeew you did!” He teased, squeezing Patrick’s cheek for emphasis.  
Patrick simply shrugged with a small chuckle, red cheeks galore. “Yeah you were right, so shoot me.” He then paused as his eyes rested upon one of many scrunched up paper balls on the floor, the one that had landed closest to the door. Pete could almost hear the curious cogs working, translating into inquisitiveness within his eager eyes as Patrick bent down to pick the ball up. “What’s this?” He mused quietly, unfolding what he believed to be one of the many mysteries that were Pete Wentz, hopefully he would discover and unfold many more in the future. Pete bit the inside of his cheek to prevent him from saying anything too cursive for Patrick's innocent ears, or anything stupidly embarrassing on his part, watching as Patrick's eyes darted about the page, absorbing every little detail that the doodle contained. He also felt his own cheeks flush as Patrick's gaze returned to his, eyes full of a whirlpool of emotions: shock, lust, love?, slight awkwardness and overall elation and bliss.  
This time it was Pete's turn to stammer around, wringing his hands together. "Look Patrick, about the picture okay, it's Er- it's not what it looks like I mean-" Patrick had already taken the time to step forwards and ram his lips forcefully against Pete's, shutting him up permanently. They began slowly at first, as if they weren't sure as to whether the other was okay, but when Pete responded by cupping Patrick's cheek with his hand, stroking it with his thumb tenderly, it gave Patrick all the confidence he needed to take it up a notch. He tugged Pete's bottom lip relentlessly, yearning for a taste of him with his small tongue, all the eagerness of a kitten pawing at the owner’s leg, begging for touch and affection with each nibble.  
Pete moaned and eventually gave in, parting his mouth and relishing in the feel of Patrick swiping his tongue in perfect patterns within his mouth, pure bliss filling him as their tongues collided and danced with each other, Patrick making damn sure that Pete wouldn't buckle and fall over, by having a secure hand at his hip. Eventually they had to part for breath, both their lips swollen as they gazed at each other yearningly through their lashes, exposing themselves to each other finally.

Pete was the first to break the silence, placing his forehead against Patrick's, "So, what do you suppose we do now, huh?"  
Patrick simply giggled in response, mischief clear within his expression. "How about we have dinner, and then I can turn that little doodle of yours into reality."


End file.
